Rainy Day Lovers (The Rocklyns Book 3) Read online

  Making her way down to the pitch-black basement to find the circuit breaker, she walked into the darkness reminding herself that every problem had a solution. At least that was the thing she used to say to calm down her younger siblings back in the days when she had to step in as surrogate mother. She’d even used it on her clients going through rough legal battles.

  So why wasn’t it working on herself?

  Come on, Rainy, focus. We’re only talking about circuit breakers, not the fact that you just gave up a solid, well-paying job.

  Yep, for the first time in her life she was letting go of the reins, moving forward with no step-by-step plan, no clear idea of what she needed to do.

  And it went against everything in her nature. What if “moving forward” instead turned into free fall?

  After switching the circuit breakers, the lights came on. Rainy breathed a relieved sigh and climbed the stairs. The storefront was a little tight when she had to set up the tables inside instead of outdoors as she usually did. But with the summer gone, she supposed she would have more days like this until they closed up for the winter.

  As she unlocked the front door and stuck her head outside, she saw an SUV had already pulled into the gravel lot that bordered the store. A familiar figure got out.

  Roman Burke.

  She let the door close and quickly walked back to the cash register area.

  Not that she didn’t enjoy the sight of him, with his dark good looks and a broad back that filled out the denim jacket that hung just down to his tight little butt. She knew all too well what kind of muscles he had under that jacket, since she’d actually been in those arms once. Rescued from a paddle board calamity and cradled against his muscular chest.

  Too bad the enthusiastic kiss of thanks she’d given him only sent him running—while the touch of his lips had just the opposite effect on her, shaking her to her core, making her want more of him.

  But even though he didn’t have any serious relationship going on—yeah, she’d checked with friends—he had avoided her at every turn. And Raina felt certain it was intentional.

  Well, too bad for Roman this morning because he would have to face her to pay for whatever he needed here.

  She pulled a blush and lip gloss compact from the deep square pocket of her gray cargo pants and did a quick check of her face just before the door opened with a jingle of the bells overhead.

  He stopped short when he saw her. “Raina? You’re working here?” He walked toward her.

  She told herself his deep smooth voice and his graceful lion-like stride had nothing to do with the shivers going through her. Nah, it was just this drafty old building on a wet almost-spring day.

  “Hey, Roman. The bok choy is beautiful this week.”

  What? Did I actually just say that? Now that’s a line that will surely reel him in. But one thing she’d learned—when you step in it, go for broke. “In fact, it’s so beautiful, I think the chard is jealous.”

  Roman laughed, his eyes meeting hers, and for a moment she had this odd deja vu, a weird feeling that sharing a warm laugh with him was something she’d done before.

  But no. She had never met Roman before Shannon and Tate’s wedding. And even though he seemed to be attracted to her—let’s face it, a girl can always tell—he avoided her like she was a bad case of the flu.

  Even one day when Rainy had pulled into the same gas station as Roman, he’d pretended not to see her. Then last month she’d taken her sister to the hospital for an MRI, and as she was strolling down a hallway, she’d seen him in his scrubs. Talk about hot. At least he’d given her a quick nod that day, but then walked on by.

  “Thanks, Raina. I needed that today,” he said.

  “The bok choy or the laugh?”

  “Both.”

  “A troubling patient?” she asked. Roman was a plastic surgeon, and although he was part of a cosmetic surgery practice out on the South Fork, she knew his specialty was working on burn victims at a hospital in New York City. Couldn’t be easy.

  “No. My father is ill. He has been for a while.” Roman’s voice faded and he looked away, his worried expression making the part of Rainy that needed to be the problem-solving helper go on alert.

  She felt selfish for obsessing on how she could get Roman interested in dating her when he was dealing with a sick loved one. “I’m so sorry. Does your father live nearby?”

  Roman nodded a thanks without making eye contact. “We live in the same house, so that makes some things easier, and I’m lucky that we can afford to hire round-the-clock nurses and home health aides. But he’s a private person and it annoys him to have strangers constantly going in and out, traipsing through his house at all hours when he’s feeling vulnerable.”

  “I’m not sure I’d like that either.” Rainy stepped out from around the counter.

  “Can’t be helped,” Roman said. “I also hired a nutritionist chef for him, thinking we needed to keep his immune system strong, but when he complained about the dishes she made, she was rude to him. So I let her go and decided I would learn how to make healthy food for him myself.”

  “I’ve got some great soup recipes, although bok choy is also great in a stir fry,” Raina said, trying to sound positive and lighten the mood a bit.

  But a part of her took note of the fact that he lived with his father. She was extremely close to her dad, but at thirty-three she didn’t want to live with him. She knew Roman had also gone into the same profession as his father and worked in his medical practice. What did this say about him? Should she see that as a danger signal in a man?

  Rainy studied him as he walked down the aisle and perused the vegetables and fruit. She wasn’t getting any warning bells about him. Instead she liked the way he took his time, and would be he was very attentive with his patients. She even liked the way he picked up the garlic bulbs. Such fine hands.

  “Are you a good cook?” she asked.

  He snorted. “If all you eat is scrambled eggs and burgers. Which I love, but I’m trying to learn more nutritious recipes for my father. Like with vegetables high in phytonutrients.”

  “I could teach you,” Rainy said.

  “Kind of you to offer, but…” Roman’s voice trailed off. Then he came back with, “The chef mentioned winter squash. Do you have any?”

  Nice deflection. “Yes. Butternut and acorn. We don’t have as much homegrown produce this time of year, but in another couple months that will begin to change.” There was no one else in the store right now, so Raina walked up to Roman and strolled alongside him to the different tables pointing out different vegetables and fruits as well as the locally produced cheeses and eggs. She told herself she was helping a guy with a sick dad, not that she just wanted to be next to him a bit longer.

  Raina had always been somewhat assertive in her nature, but when it came to men she tended to hold back. Why couldn’t she do that with Roman? Why couldn’t she take a hint and leave this guy alone?

  At one point, he turned his intense gaze on Rainy, and a surge of heat flowed through her. Was that attraction in his eyes? Or only curiosity? She tried not to show her reaction, not to let him see how much he drew her in and how his sexy mouth made her hungry for his lips.

  “How come you’re working here?” he asked. “Is this…?”

  “My new job.” She neatened up the pile of russet potatoes.

  “Really? Your sister Shannon said you were working for one of the big law firms in Manhattan.”

  “I was. A ridiculous number of hours. Until Shannon convinced me it was time for me to get a life of my own.” She shrugged.

  His eyebrows lifted. “So you quit? Didn’t you move here from California to take that job?”

  “No. It was to be near my family. I had originally passed the bar in New York, and when a colleague serendipitously offered me a job in Manhattan right around the time my father and sister moved to the East Coast, everyone told me only a fool would turn down a chance to work for Henks and Sherman. So I
jumped on it.” She shook her head. “But handling pre-nups for wealthy clients is not what I got a law degree to do.”

  “Which is what?”

  “I went into family law to help abused women and at-risk children.”

  He stared at her a moment with an odd look, then said, “I bet those jobs aren’t too plentiful these days.”

  “Nope. But I’ve got a small stash of money saved and I live frugally, so I’m able to take time now for volunteer work. I’m doing pro bono cases for a couple centers.”

  “While you get a life of your own.”

  Raina groaned and rolled her eyes “Whatever that means.”

  “It means you’re the kind of person who’s more comfortable spending your time doing things for other people rather than yourself.”

  It was a statement, not a question. And so spot on that Rainy felt her cheeks flame. “You sound like my sister.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” he said. “Just the opposite. There are a lot of people around that need help, on all fronts. I try to do my share with my medical skills.”

  She’d heard from her sister that he did way more than his share. Which of course made her crush on this man only double in size. “Well, now that I’m not working a zillion hours a week, I’d be happy to come over and teach you to cook some healthy recipes.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…aren’t you busy…working here? And…”

  He seemed torn instead of outright rejecting her as she’d half expected. Hmm. Maybe there was hope. “I close up the shop early three days a week. And even that is flexible since my uncle bought this place.”

  “The uncle who owns the winery?”

  She nodded. “Uh-huh. And he needed someone to live here in Water Mill in the farmhouse and run the store. So I moved in.”

  “So you’re in the South Fork now. I’m only about ten minutes away in Southampton.”

  “Great.” This was getting better and better.

  He gestured to the tables of produce. “You really eat all this stuff?”

  Rainy laughed. “Hey, I’m from California.”

  As she helped him pick out some foods, the rain started up heavy again, pounding and pattering on the roof and windows. She told herself that rainy days were good days for her, and when they went back to the register, she dipped into her tote bag beneath the counter and pulled out one of her cards. “This office number is obviously no more, but the card has my mobile on it. Let me know when would be a good time to come over and teach you some good recipes.”

  “That very generous of you, but I can’t possibly—”

  “I insist,” she said, then reached out and stuffed the card in the front pocket of his jeans jacket.

  Rainy had no idea why that made Roman stare at her in an odd way, but it also made him smile. And seeing his handsome smile directed at her felt really good.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that since you won the push-up Olympics at the last staff picnic.”

  Roman slipped his mobile into his jeans pocket and looked up at his best friend. “Oh, that was brutal. Cranking them out under a ninety-degree sun.”

  “Old Nurse Crawford practically fainted at the sight of such manliness.” Thurman gave him a wily grin. “Show off.”

  “Hey, it made her day. Now can we not delve into my checkered past and stick to the present? I need a consultation.”

  “Consultation” was the term they’d coined over the years for times when one of them ran up against a problem and needed buddy support—or help puzzling out some of crazy female behavior. Roman Burke, a Filipino by birth orphaned at age ten, and Thurman Moody, an African American who grew up dodging gang wars in North Philadelphia, had bonded as odd men out in medical school. They’d formed a lasting friendship that now included working together in the Burke Center for Dermatology and Plastic Surgery, the practice Roman’s father had established with offices in Manhattan and Long Island.

  Thurman smirked at him. “Got something to do with the text that just had you smiling? From a lady, no doubt?”

  Roman nodded. “Yeah.” He walked across the hall to the conference room of their Southampton office where the two men usually caught up with each other at the end of a busy week.

  “Oh man,” Thurman said, trailing after him. “This must mean you’re in need of one major-league consultation.”

  “I am.” Roman took a seat on a coffee-colored leather sofa.

  Thurman sat facing him in a club chair and gestured with an open palm. “The doctor is in, my man. Spill it.”

  Roman shifted in his seat. This whole subject still held an uncomfortable grip on him. “I’m not sure if you’re aware that you and Sydney are the only people who know about my past.”

  “I thought that might be the case, and I’m honored, my friend.”

  “But you are the only one I’ve ever told about that girl who helped me. Even Sydney doesn’t know about her.”

  “The one whose mojo boost gave you the courage to jump in and rescue Sydney?”

  “Yeah, her. The one who saved my butt and changed my life.”

  Thurman leaned forward. “Don’t tell me you found her.”

  “Oh, I knew where she was,” Roman said. “I’ve been googling her for years.”

  “Whoa, you never struck me as having stalker potential, dude.”

  “I don’t. I never intended to contact her. I just…felt better knowing she was in the world, if that makes any sense. And sometimes I just liked seeing her face.”

  “Wait a sec. You had a crazy-ass crush on her. Compared every woman you ever dated to her and none measured up. And all this time you knew where she was but never contacted her?”

  “That’s right. Because, for one thing, I doubt she wanted to hear from me. But on my end, well, she was a magical sort of person to me. I’m not sure I ever wanted to know the ‘warts and all’ actual human version of her as a real person. Much less see her with a boyfriend or a husband, knowing it would never be me. I had put her on a pedestal and wanted to keep her there almost like a talisman I could return to whenever I wanted.”

  “And judging by the worried note in your voice, she has somehow appeared in the flesh?”

  “Yeah. She’s moved here from the West Coast and is living in the North Fork. I found that out because her sister married a guy I know through some of my charitable work. So I was invited to their wedding…”

  “And she was there.”

  “Yep. She was there. Rainy.”

  “Warts and all.”

  Roman chuckled. “No warts. She’s as beautiful as I remembered.”

  “But married?”

  “Nope. The day of her sister’s wedding, I watched her but kept my distance. However, the next day the couple had a barbecue by the Sound. Rainy had a water incident and I ended up carrying her to dry land. And got a kiss in thanks.” Roman had tried to forget about that kiss, but he had fantasized kissing those rosebud lips of Rainy’s for so many years that when the real thing happened, it messed with his head. Especially since it was every bit as great as he’d imagined it would be.

  “So far so good,” Thurman said. “What’s she like?”

  “Really sweet, but she has a serious bent that I like and one of those husky voices that really turns me on.”

  “I take it she didn’t recognize you.”

  “No way. For one thing, we’d only spent about two hours together fifteen years ago, and even though they were the most important two hours of my life, I doubt it meant all that much to her. Add in five surgeries on my face, a new name, and the fact that back then I was a skinny runt with bad posture and long stringy hair.”

  “So are you planning to reveal yourself?” He twisted his mouth. “Pardon my choice of words.”

  “No.” Roman heaved a sigh. “The whole thing felt too strange. After she kissed me I backed off, made myself scarce, left the party, and despite all her c
ome hither signals, I have been avoiding her for nearly a year.”

  Thurman let out a slow whistle. “So this woman who was your ideal, the one no other female ever measured up to, finally appears, and so far she is as great as you’d imagined, and has even given you signs she’s into you—and you hightail it away from her. You got to admit that does sound slightly pathological. Maybe you should be talking to Gary Jenklov instead of me.”

  “Honestly, Thurm—Jenklov? Gary’s too busy these days striving to become Long Island’s premiere psychiatrist to the stars, specializing in panic disorders triggered by memos that read ‘the network won’t be renewing your series.’”

  Thurman laughed. “No wonder he’s so busy.” He held up one of his meaty, oversized hands. Roman chuckled silently. Thurman had the bulk and weight of a linebacker, not to mention his badass attitude that could intimidate most men, so people were often shocked to discover what a fine surgeon he was. “Okay, Roman, so tell me why you’re playing games around this woman.”

  “Because I’ve built up such a fantasy surrounding her and what happened between us that I don’t want it to come tumbling down into the dreary mundane reality of life.”

  “You kidding? What happened in your life is anything but dreary and mundane.”

  “You’re right. And I’m incredibly grateful. I guess the underlying truth that I’ve been afraid to look at is that I don’t want the past to come back and spoil the present. Last thing I need is for her to see me as the loser freak with the scarred and disfigured face.” Roman fought back his emotions. “I don’t ever want to be Robbie Makalo again—the kid who went from one foster home to the next, most of the time ending up in one of the group homes for orphans since people didn’t want someone who looked like me.”

  “May I remind you that it was Robbie Makalo who saved Sydney Burke’s life that night on the Lower East Side? Believe me, you are no loser.”

  When Roman went silent, Thurman got up and went to a carved wood cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Remy Martin cognac and two glasses.